


Can You Stay?

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Bluesey - Freeform, F/M, Fictober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 15:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20950790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: She clearly remembered him boldly telling the world he could live in this car, and now, for all intents and purposes, he was. She was being invited into his home. Maybe Blue hadn’t figured out yet that she was his home too.





	Can You Stay?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm late to the party with Starbucks and Bluesey this [Fictober](https://fictober-event.tumblr.com/post/187637998976/fictober-2019)! Here is Day 8 - "Can you stay?" Hope you enjoy!

They were at a rest stop somewhere in the midwest. They hadn’t looked at town names in quite a while, and it didn’t matter. Gansey had stripped down to his boxers and an old crew tee perfect for sleeping in. He stretched out in the backseat, fiddling with a battery operated radio until the dial found the sweet spot of a classic rock station. The world still had some summer to give, the breeze coming through his half-open windows only slightly cool and carrying the scent of unfamiliar trees. He loved it. Loved how it mingled with the Pig’s fuel-leather presence around him and he knew he’d sleep soundly that night. 

Gansey had just taken his glasses off to sleep when a _ tap-tap-tap _ on the back window caught his attention. Scrambling to get the frames back on, he squinted at Blue’s face through the glass and smiled immediately. He leaned forward over the seat so he could roll the window down all the way. Blue held a steaming paper cup between her hands, her hair wild and messy without its usual clips, haloed by the parking light nearby. With her bare feet on the asphalt and cozy oversized shirt and sleepy smile, Gansey found her stunning. He felt certain he was much more awake than he’d been a minute ago. 

“Jane,” he greeted.

“Coffee machine had tea,” she told him, tilting her chin down to the cup. “Brought you one.” 

“That was kind of you, thank you.” He took it from her, holding it up to his nose. It had no discernible flavor he could identify, but it didn’t much matter. It smelled like some kind of tea, and that’s what mattered. It was probably better than what he could make at Monmouth and far less dangerous than anything concocted back at 300 Fox Way. Tucking it safely into the cup holder, he couldn’t help but look back at Blue, who lingered near the Pig, her hands tucked into her sleeves. Gansey’s pulse could power trains at the sight of her collar drifting toward one shoulder. When he managed to drag his eyes back to hers, she was smirking a little. She leaned on the door to kiss his cheek.

“Good night, Gansey.”

He reached out to tangle his fingers in her sleeve before she could retreat, and she quirked a brow expectantly. 

“Can you stay?” he asked. Still getting used to how this thing between them should go, he reconsidered his words. “Would you like to come in?”

The smirk blew out into a grin. She clearly remembered him boldly telling the world he could live in this car, and now, for all intents and purposes, he did. She was being invited into his home. Maybe Blue hadn’t figured out yet that she was his home too. 

“Sure.” 

Gansey felt a surge of delight, and he popped the manual lock on the door with more flourish than was necessary for such a simple gesture. But Blue made him want all the grand gestures. She opened the door and crawled into the backseat with him. It was definitely tight, but neither of them seemed to care. They got tangled up while getting the window back up and the lock pushed down. Gansey stretched out again, soft rock crooning from his little radio while Blue lay herself on top of him like a blanket. Gansey hummed along, tucking his nose into her hair and breathing in. She already had her fingers twisted in his shirt, stifling a yawn into his chest. There was no doubt she could hear the safe and content _ tha-thump _ of his heart. 

“Good night, Gansey,” she said again.

It definitely would be. 

“Good night, Jane.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell with me about Bluesey and TRC over at [my blog](http://oldkingyounggod.tumblr.com)! Happy Fictober!


End file.
